No Vow Left Unbroken
by Ash Gray Kitsune
Summary: You might have never known it by the look at me, but once, I was a Turk...And once, I had a purpose far greater than any I had ever imagined...
1. Chapter 1

Title: No Vow Left Unbroken  
>Author: ashgray_kitsune<br>Fandom: Final Fantasy VII  
>Summary: Awakened by the destruction spiraling out of control around him, Vincent finds that he is changed, that he is different than before, though he has aged not a day. As he follows the sounds up into the fading magnificence of Shinra Manor, he finds that one of his sins has come home to roost...<p>

_Prologue..._

It was quiet, down here in the once-beautiful manor. The room he was in now was especially calm, a circular lady's room filled with windows now largely overgrown by the tangled roses outside. The sunlight falling through what remained uncovered of the great stained-glass windows was tired and wan, softening the edges of the man sitting on an old crate. His long silver hair was dusty from having lain immobile, his armor a dead gray from the tiny particles filtering the air. The black leather, once gleaming, was faded now, so like the other man he'd once fought alongside. A day ago, he had been mighty; now, he supposed that he knew what Genesis had felt, the fear fading into sadness, into nothingness. Translucent skin tore at the slightest breath, veins blackened and died slowly across his face and bared chest, the once bright green eyes now a blind, cobwebbed jade. His hand was outstretched, at first willingly, then forcibly...now, he didn't care.

The wraith that clung to it, sucking his life's blood from the two small punctures in his wrist, was clad appropriately in black and red. The man had been so small, so washed away by time's horrid tides, that even his own insanity had slid aside, and the warrior sought to help a comrade so clearly in need...he would have laughed if he could. Shaggy, tangled black hair hung low over hell-red eyes, set in a handsome face only a little paler than his...or so he recalled. The numbness that had started at his hand was nearly finished spreading now, reaching his left foot with indecent haste. The spectre he'd found paused in his feeding, and Sephiroth felt two long fangs withdraw from his skin, that presence of power as yet unrivaled moving away from him. As he succumbed to the darkness, he heard the other speak, a quiet, haughty baritone.

"Good bye, Lucrecia's child. Fare thee well in the Promised Land..." There was a soft sigh, and the warrior's body began to crumble from within, falling in a cascade of minuscule crystals, the cells starving without a ready blood source and fading to dust. The man who had stolen the life from him stood a little away, thin frame wavering against the drafts, watched as the child, made monster, was lifted on a cool breeze and spiraled out into the vast Nibel mountains. Crimson irises surveyed the now empty room with a detached care; when he had been drawn out of his sulk by the younger man, he had been cowering behind several broken crates, tossed like so much garbage into this once grand room. Any evidence of the General's remains were little more than greenish dust; with a flick of one hand, the dirty red cloak he'd been buried in swept it onto the floor, mixing with the corpse powders that shrouded the manor.

He turned away, closing his eyes, and allowed his feet, shod in brass, to carry him back into his final resting place. Distantly, he heard the sounds of copters, almost forgotten, and the shouts of men, the screams of women...the dying crashes of the fire that had gutted Nibelheim. Once more, he was a hero, he supposed; the perpetrator was dead, the townsfolk saved...His head ducked, and Vincent withdrew into the crypt. No...Heroes were martyred, were remembered. Sephiroth, and his major, they were heroes. He was nothing so bold; there was no death for him.

_34 hours later_  
><em>Nibelheim<em>

"I cannot believe the devastation Project S has wrought upon this community." Reeve felt his jaw tighten as Heidigger sidled up to him, cigar in hand. The large man, with his greasy black hair and puffed up chest, always made the Head of Urban Development a little ill, but the look on his face of utter _joy_, that made Reeve want to strike a blow. Of course he was ecstatic that Sephiroth's berserking had caused such damage; it gave him a new angle to pressure the President into giving him more power. Sephiroth, Hojo's longest lasting experiment, had just fulfilled his purpose; now that he was presumably dead, Heidigger had a fresh attempt to curry favor with the Heads. It was positively heart-rending, and distantly, Reeve wondered if when he died, he'd have as little of a soul left as those around him.

But Heidigger's failures at being a decent human being were by far and large the least of the atrocities occurring around him. Hojo and his crew of lab technicians, followed by an entire squadron of SOLDIER fresh out of the labs, had swept in and taken control of the ruined town, putting out fires and rounding up the survivors to be taken for 'treatment'; standard procedure for Shin-ra, of course. An hour or so ago, out of the corner of his eye when he'd been taking measurements from some of the less damaged buildings, Reeve had spotted the famed martial artist Zangan, hiding behind some of the tall brush surrounding the village. The old man was carrying a young girl, and after a short stint of waiting, had departed hastily through the brush into the lowlands. Reeve had said nothing to the scientists; had he done so, he supposed that the master would have likely killed him before fleeing again. And...he wanted someone to survive. The past few years had been deeply scarring, and as he drew close to his 28th birthday, he found that he didn't want to be in league with monsters masquerading as men any longer.

He turned his eyes to the sky, and swallowed, his breathing still a little ragged from the smoke. The helicopters had to arrive one by one, loading up individually in order to avoid raising the fires again. Reeve watched, sickened, as another tech led his group up to the pitch black machines with their bright Shin-ra logo emblazoned on the side. This was a small collection of children, their ages ranging between three and nine, most of them clutching tiny stuffed animals or blankets. Clearly their leader knew how to handle them; not a one screamed or cried as the soldiers picked them up and placed them inside, buckling the harnesses and tightening straps. One little girl turned to look back at the town, but the tech turned her back firmly, picking her up himself before he climbed into the chopper. Soft brown eyes, just like his own, stared balefully back at him, and Reeve had to avert his; warm tears threatened to spill as the machine took off, the _whoop-whoop-whoop_of its wings fading into the smoky fog.

"Yes, Director Heidigger; it is a terrible thing to behold. Have your men finish tearing down the houses and businesses that are too badly damaged to fix, and round up any stragglers in the hills. There might be a problem or two; I distinctly remember Director Scarlet's memo about a famous fighter who made his home here. And get technicians up here for the reactor; despite Sephiroth's infamous constitution, I shudder at the thought of what his remains might do if contaminated too highly with mako. If I am needed, send an orderly to my tent. I have too much to do in regards to rebuilding this town without dealing with menial tasks as well." With that, he turned on his heel and headed back up the mountain path, his destination a large tent at the center of a large group of similar structures. Heidigger smiled thinly, pulling a long drag off the rare Banora leaf rolled in his cigar, exhaling a pale puff of smoke as he glanced over the townsfolk.

"Nero, Weiss." The two SSC's paused as they brushed the rubble off their armor, and turned to salute him. Perfect specimens...hardly that impudent little shit with the insane hair or the arrogant bitch Sephiroth had been.

"Sir."

"Sir."

"Go aid Professor Hojo in his procurral of the last specimen. Rumor has it that Dr. Crescent's thesis was even more powerful than Genesis and Sephiroth; I want proof that it even exists."

"Yes, Sir."  
>"Yes, Sir." He smiled wider this time, and took another long drag, examining his nails delicately; it would be interesting to see how that little brat of a VP handled all of this. He would have to appoint a new Administrative Director; there was no way Veld could manage all of the security and surveillance with just his Turks. And if Heidigger had any say...he would make sure that Veld didn't manage anything. Ever again.<p>

_Shinra Manor_  
><em>Nibelheim<em>

Professor Hojo turned up his nose at all the broken glass, stepping carefully around the pools of chemicals mixed with the mako-enriched fluid that had spilled from the embryonic chambers. Looking through the large containers, he was pleased to see that 23, 47, and 91 had survived; they were the extremes of his experiments with Sephiroth's genes and recumbant Jenova cells, and he had had a few concerns when he'd heard that Project S had torn through the Manor. 23 had grown the most over the past ten years, and it was almost too large for the chamber now. He'd have the younger techs take those three back to Deepground; they could be grown and taught properly there. He certainly didn't need his special little projects being damaged just because one stupid, malfunctioning failure had to run off and read the official documents, and assumed they were true. Of course, most of the blame lay in Professor Gast, the imbecile, and that idiotic bitch Lucrecia.

His lip curled in a sneer as the thought of 'Dr.' Crescent made him pause in his search of the lab. Half of this crap was hers, after all; she'd pioneered the reanimation of dead tissue sciences, crude as her own work was, and had decimated countless subjects in her pursuit for the ultimate monster...She had been the one to unearth the Omega tablets, much to his disgust, and had been one of the first to really understand their impact on the planet's Lifestream and lifetime. Lucrecia had sought Omega and its own herald, Chaos, with all the passion of a maddened lover. It had made their brief coupling almost impossible to perform; he had never much cared for the so-called feminine form, and after she'd fallen asleep from the crushed pills in her drink, he'd simply artificially inseminated her uterus. Besides...his preference was due to work the next day, and Hojo smiled to himself, leering a little at the memory.

He had never even held a gun before that morning; he'd stolen the Turk's spare from the locker room and hidden it in his waistband before watching the confrontation between the guilt-ridden, soppy little bitch and the handsome young man. It gave him a surge of pleasure to watch Lucrecia turn him down; his loins stirred almost painfully as he watched the play of emotions and colors across the Turk's face. He'd turned pale, then gray, then white, then a little green as he realized that 'the love of his life' had slept around on him with nearly everyone in and out of the Manor, including the Head of the science department. She'd even confessed to causing the accident that had killed his father; the former Head, and a formidable scientist in his own right. Of course, she had no way of knowing that it was his own little pets that had so injured Grimoire; she truly believed that she'd been the cause when she'd activated the power of the Protomateria. He still giggled a little at that particular event.

Said ancient materia resided in his breast pocket, currently providing him with a suitable charm for his anniversary watch. Of course, it had its other uses...like when he needed to activate materia. Rather than spend three days charging the damned things, he just had to pull out the Protomateria, wave it a few times over the globe in his hand, and presto! Instant activation. It made him the absolute envy up at the Tower; a position he greatly enjoyed. However...he smiled slightly as the globe in his pocket seemed to shift and move, guiding him back through the laboratory. Its primary use, its ultimate purpose, lay in a twenty-five year stupor, memory of the man he had once been little more than dust now. Most of that fine dust had been swept aside by technicians, with a few large swathes on the floor where the useless genetic mutations he'd once hailed as legendary had disturbed his files, books, and experiments...and had destroyed much of his research.

In those days, computers were little more than giant calculators, and data storage had relied on sealed files and large tomes stacked neatly on shelves. These days, he could hold thirty years of research worth millions of dollars in the palm of his hands...and twenty other copies existed, free of charge. Hojo smirked; had Sephiroth and his cohorts been even a tad more computer literate, he would have had a very real problem. Of course, due to her inattention, he still did have a large one in regards to Lucrecia's research. Most of her work had been done in pen and paper, and she had only been published briefly before her disappearance. And he knew that she had taken as much as she could with her to whatever cave she'd holed up in. Little Lucrecia was vastly jealous over her research and findings; not even Grimoire had been able to see what she had theorized.

But she also was hardly the most inventive. Breaking her security codes had been almost pitifully easy; stealing and copying off her research in regards to Chaos and Omega simply a long night of work. The fruits of his labors, and hers, lay just a few hundred feet away, and so Hojo resumed his slow perusal of the lab, noting where his techs would be forced to wear protective gear, then mentally calculating how much it would cost to do the clean-up. Heidigger likely would simply have them salvage what they can, then leave the rest to rot; he was perfectly fine with that. Saved him the time and trouble. That odd Tuesti fellow would probably bitch, but that was hardly Hojo's concern. Long strides led him steadily to the old entrance of the lab, an ancient, mildewed tunnel carved long ago by the first of the Shinra family. If his memory served him correctly, then the crypt would be just past the second bend, a large, fire-blackened door on heavy iron hinges, shut tight against the elements and intrusions of the living world.

As he made his way past the moisture-streaked walls, he noted several large, deep clawmarks, spaced rather evenly, that criss-crossed the red stone. Many had dried blood and mako-stains; likely from the many monsters that made their home within the rock wall itself, who had fallen before his own quarry. If his calculations and theories were correct, then likely what he sought would be ravenous; one of the few unfortunate developments had been a sort of strange vampirism, cured, of a sort, by the materia in his pocket. There was no infectious matter to be transfer, nor were the fangs capable of 'sucking' out blood, but he had noted a few incidents back then of young internees bearing large lacerations and bites from the experiment, several clearly drained of a large amount of blood. He fed off the living...Hojo's thoughts were interrupted when he came to the door. Reaching out to touch the handle, he frowned darkly as it swung inward; he disliked doors and windows being unlocked when they had no right to be.

The inside of the musty crypt was as black as a starless night; he blinked several times before his eyes began to adjust to the change in light levels, and dimly, he could make out a long, oblong shape resting in silence on the stone floor. His crew of lab techs, appropriately terrified of being turned into experiments, had obeyed his orders to a T when it came time to lay several failures to rest. Most had been nailed inside their coffins of nearly petrified wood, forgotten in the fast pace of progress to finish dying in a place where their unearthly yowling wouldn't be heard. Some had, over time, been trampled and demolished; others, time had driven to dust. But if he listened closely, he could hear the faintest of sounds, a tiny heartbeat emanating from his pocket, reacting to its rightful bearer...He smiled, black eyes glinting with malevolence.

Time to wake...Vincent Valentine.

_Shinra Manor Crypt_  
><em>Nibelheim<em>

He knew there was someone intruding upon the crypt; he just didn't give a damn who it might be. Likely another SOLDIER member; the imbeciles seemed to swarm the place at the most inopportune times, whining about their General or some other such foolish thing. Their General indeed...he smirked, just a little, in his less than restful slumber. He had never seen such a pathetic creature in his life, run down and deeply poisoned from pure mako, his sword falling from his hands as he made his unsteady way up the stairs, heading, no doubt, for the labs to try and regenerate before launching out to Gaia knew where. But that smirk turned to a sad smile, and Vincent laid a hand on his chest. He had not, of course, made it; the mighty Sephiroth, greatest military genius in the history of Shin-Ra Electric Power Company, lay in tiny slivers and crystals of cellular tissue, mutated by both the cells of heaven's dark harbinger and the mako reactor's artificial well into a sort of crystalline form that had crumbled at the faintest breath of air when drained of the sustaining blood.

Vincent wondered if Hojo knew yet. Likely, given the professor's need to know everything, from how the air of Midgar was polluted to whether or not mako created a longer penis. He had laughed himself silly when that had been proposed to the President, and after watching Hojo's subsequent humiliation, had taken it upon himself to make the good doctor a 'care package'...He supposed that was really when the urge to kill had started to enter Hojo's beady little black eyes whenever Vincent came in to report for duty, though it had never really bothered him. He was a Turk; for that matter, he was a sniper, and top of his class. Guns were like his children...and because of that, he grew careless...he grew complacent...A frown crossed his features, and he felt one edge of his lip curl up in a sneer.

Oh, yes...that day. His fucking birthday, no less. It hadn't started out well, but looking back, he felt he could inject a little humor into the memory, though the truth itself was far from comedic. If he'd only gotten drunk the night before, he never would have had to report to work, he never would have had to deal with Lucrecia's break-up with him, then the sudden announcement that she was pregnant...and he never would have been shot in the stomach by the little rat-bastard who called himself a genius. He had aimed low, burying a large, 22mm bullet into his intestines, causing his bowels, stomach, and kidneys to be torn to pieces. The bullet hadn't exited, and as he fell to the floor, he blessed all the gods above that the end would be quick; something like this was not a long death, not when the pain overwhelmed the senses...

But he didn't die quickly. First Hojo, then that whoring bitch ensured that it was a horrible, drawn-out demise, as they began replacing his organs one by one with those of animals, of monsters...At one point, he'd flatlined easily three times, and they had simply jolted him with a shot of adrenaline or a shock of electricity, and continued on with their 'theories' and 'processes'. There had been no pain medications; Hojo felt that they impaired the subject matter and were too pricy for something that was only really a cadaver in waiting. He had despaired ever being free of their clutches...until the night that Lucrecia, heavily pregnant and exhausted, had come into the lab, clutching a small, round globe that seemed to hold an entire galaxy within its depths. He had been coherant enough at the time to watch her work, and felt nothing more than resignation as she carefully removed his heart, replacing it with the glass galaxy. At that point, he'd been given so many drugs and new body parts, as well as various experimental bloodborne restoratives, that he supposed he could be considered the undead.

And so he had simply given up on ever gaining what he lost; there was no hope in this dim-lit world of monstrous science and petty destruction, and the creatures placed within himself along with their various souls had taught him to watch and wait. They were predators; he was prey. And he had accepted that. When in the long nights left alone he talked to them, he did not feel crazy or delirious. He felt vindicated. They had suffered as he had...and their dearest wish was his. Kill Hojo, destroy Lucrecia, turn the labs to dust...and then throw themselves into the Lifestream, for the body he had been given had been changed, and now, no mere mortal weapon or magic could lay a mark upon him. Vincent had seen proof of that; Hojo loved taking out his rages on his experiments. He could feel pain, feel agony...but he could regenerate at an amazing speed. Hours took what years could take in others, and he had discovered that the demons within his body and mind had a hand in that. But this feeling...a heady sense of power and purposed filled his emaciated body, and Vincent found a strength he had not felt since before his death.

_Chaos_...The whisper in his mind almost didn't register, and looking within, he realized that the others had taken safety, huddling together in fear...he turned, and a sleep took him like none he had ever experienced...He had woken days later, in the coffin he lay in now, confused, disoriented...and weak. The shining globe was gone, and what power it had given him with it. Only feeding off of the monsters in the tunnels had kept him in passable condition. However, his thoughts disconnected from the past as whatever jackass opening the coffin finally hauled the lid all the way off, letting it fall with a quiet, muffled thunk on the slate floor. He opened his eyes just a small bit, his frown deepening as the fine corpse dust thrown into the air started to settle across his already blurry vision. He did not adjust to wakefulness well after a large feeding, and this idiot was not making things any easier, blocking his identity by standing in the large patch of soft light flowing in from the tunnel. He stirred, bringing his good hand up long enough to rub his eyes, when the moron spoke, his voice a nasal, grating, weaselly voice that immediately made Vincent's skin crawl, and he struggled to stand, backing up as hastily as possible, one hand grasping for a gun locked in the case behind him. Hojo just laughed.

"It's so good to see you, my dear Turk."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: No Vow Left Unbroken  
>Author: ashgray_kitsune<br>Fandom: Final Fantasy VII  
>Summary: Vincent wakes, Veld takes a vacation, Reno gets a lesson, and Rufus finds out that he's not an only child.<p>

_Three days later  
><em>_Shinra Medical Facility  
><em>_Shinra Tower_

The first thing he noticed when he woke was that he couldn't move his arms and legs, and gingerly, he pressed his wrists upward, the panic that roiled in his stomach blossoming when he realized that he was restrained. That horrid feeling was remembered far too easily, and he fought against the cuffs, arching his back up only to feel the sting of a fresh set of stitches down his sternum, warning pangs echoing from where wire held bone, and the gasping pain of a tight chestband. His eyes refused to focus at first, but as the fear subsided, clarity returned with rage. Crimson eyes flashed as his fangs bared themselves against the bright surgical lights, a snarling hiss filling the silence of the room.

"He told me you'd probably be a little angry." That voice, calm, authorative, strong...Vincent almost broke the hinges of the gurney he lay on as he twisted and fought to rise, his fury boiling up into a scream of rage as he lunged out towards Veld.

"YOU _FUCKING_ BASTARD!"

"Uh, boss, he's breaking the bed, yo..."

"YOU LIED TO ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Sir, should we call on SOLDIER...?"

"I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU TO ROT!"

"Tseng, Reno, it's alright. I need you two to leave. Go down and keep an eye open for Hojo and his ilk; I'll not have my successor stolen away again, right when so much is at stake. Go." As they left, Vincent glared at the man standing before him, then the moment the door closed, he relaxed, slumping back on the bed.

"You were right, the 'betrayal' works every time."

"Not always, my old friend, not always. Tseng picked up on me a long time ago; Reno too. But they are among the few that are trustworthy." Veld came forward and undid each restraint, helping Vincent sit up. "Forgive me, Vincent. I never wanted to see you like this...in truth, I'd hoped that you'd finally been given the grace to die down in that hellhole." The gunman sighed softly, rubbing his wrists.

"I nearly did. I was this close to death, I was in the Lifestream itself...but that bitch Lucrecia did something to my body that makes it almost impossible to destroy me. I haven't aged, haven't been able to gain back the weight and muscle mass I lost...I'm scarred in more ways than I care to ever admit...technically I don't even have a left arm anymore." He held up the limb, and Veld swallowed, almost nervously, it seemed. The arm was withered and gray, more claw like than human, and seemed to have been grafted together from several different beasts, for the forearm was too long, the fingers too wide at the ends, and tipped with sharp nails. Whomever stitched the macabre reminder that Vincent's life was not his own any longer had done so with skill and clear fervor; there was barely any scarring at the seams at all. As he drug the appendage through his newly shorn hair, Veld looked away and picked up the small pile Reno had left on the table beside the gurney.

"Here, old friend; they should fit you well, considering they were the full Turk suit you never really got to wear." Instead of taking the clothes, though, the gunman stared long and hard at Veld, and Vincent's lip curled a little in disgust.

"Forgive me, but I have no desire to don the attire of the backstabbing monopoly that stole my father, my youth, and then my life. I'll have the clothing I was wearing in the coffin back, please." The elder Turk shook his head, and Vincent's eyes narrowed. "You mean to tell me that after all the hell I went through trying to find something that wasn't a total waste in that mansion to wear, that you then threw it _away_?"

"More or less...Vincent, please listen. Hojo had already stripped you to your birthday suit, tossed your clothes into a waste bin, and was busy hooking you up to more damned tubes when we finally got there. I had Tseng and Reno slip in, kidnap you, and get you back here. You had already been so sedated that we dared not give you anything else to ease your pain. Rude and I removed the tubes, stitched you up, and debated on the restraints. I chose to do them only because of the demons that manifest in your body. Nothing more, my friend. You didn't deserve to be hurt more." Vincent studied him, then sighed heavily.

"Fine. But this does not make me a member of the Turks. There are too many worms in the Tower for me to bear another round of hell."

"Fair enough. I just want to get you out of here with enough time to give Hojo the slip." Veld handed him the clothes, and turned away slightly, running his hand through his hair and sighing heavily. "Would you like me to fill you in on a quarter-century's worth of gossip, intrigue, and scandal?"

"I'll take the edited version, thank you."

"Well, in short, Shin-ra runs the world, mako is the strongest source of power and fuel, along with bloody expensive materia, and the three greatest warriors known to humanity have fallen at the hands of their own makers, for the most part. I heard Sephiroth was thrown into a mako reactor, Genesis and Angeal were destroyed by his major. Poor kid..." Vincent finished pulling the suit jacket on and zipped it up, studying the lay of the garment. His gauntlet would have to go on over the left sleeve, but that was fine for the time being. He closed his eyes a moment and pictured the boy Veld was talking about; likely Hojo had captured him, if the kid survived a blow from his beloved General. He hoped that the major would try to escape, but he knew too well how distant a possibility that could become. So Vincent returned to the waking world, and let the sadness drift back, pulling on the mask of a Turk as he checked his hair in the mirrored surface of one of the lights.

"Indeed...so, Wutai fell..."

"Not so long ago. It was a harsh campaign."

"But of course. No warrior would willingly give up his homeland."

"...Vincent?"

"Yes?" Veld turned now to catch his gaze, and the two men locked eyes.

"...I cannot be the Administrative Director forever, but I have the power to make another such. The problem is this; Tseng is not ready to fill the position, and he needs another with experience in Hojo's destructive capabilities to help figure out what the hell is going on down in the labs. We can't get close enough to even graze the surface."

"And you want me to take the position, enrage the old bastard, and conduct a plethora of surveillance activities?"

"I'm only offering it to the Turk who has earned the post."

"...I'm sorry, Veld. I can't. I have spent the past twenty-five years regretting that I ever joined Shin-ra, regretting that I ever met Lucrecia. In fifty-two years, I have lived four for myself. Not again will I willingly step into the role that earned me nothing more than an eternity in purgatory. I am no Turk; I am Vincent Valentine. And I am going home." He broke the eye contact first, and pushed his way past his former friend, reaching for the door just as he heard the faint _click-click_ of a pistol's trigger readying. "You'd shoot a Turk in the back for saying no to your face, would you?"

"I'm not going to shoot anyone, especially if said Turk turns back around and tells me the answer I need to hear."

"Not a chance in hell, Veld. I am done with this monstrosity..."

"I need to save my daughter, Vincent." At that, the gunman turned, eyes narrowing.

"I thought I heard a rumor from the townsfolk that she'd died...That attack on Kalm resounded through the world, Veld. Even Nibelheim was buzzing with it; enough for villagers to break into the manorhouse to see if there was anything there that might hurt them. They found nothing, but they were right nonetheless."

"I know. I led that damned attack...and not a day goes by that I don't regret it. Felicia needs me right now; more than anyone realizes. She's got a madman almost as crazy as Hojo experimenting on her, and right now...right now she needs her father there to protect her. Heidigger's already calling for my blood; Scarlet, Palmer, and the others will soon follow. Rufus can't protect us anymore...that's why I need you, Vincent. You're the only one who can protect the Turks, especially the young ones, from a bastard like Heidigger...not to mention you really are the only one who can succeed me without a ruckus ensueing. Please, Vincent...It won't be for long, I swear to you...Tseng just needs a little more experience, and he'll be ready." He sighed, long and low...and glared up at Veld mildly.

"Fine...but you owe me a boon in return."

"Anything!"

"Don't die."

_Two weeks later  
><em>_Seaside Pier  
><em>_Costa Del Sol_

He had forgotten how hot the winds were in Costa del Sol, and Vincent closed his eyes against the glare of the sun on the glittering waters. He'd been sent out by Heidigger to await Rufus' arrival from Junon; why the young VP couldn't have just ridden the chopper with Reno and himself instead annoyed him, but he had no choice. Of course, Rufus was just barely a year younger than Reno, and he had only just acquired the vice president post, so his grasp on his newfound power was weak at best. Thankfully, the president had greenlighted a new training schedule for his son, suggested by Vincent, that would strengthen Rufus' shooting, martial art, and magic skills. He was a skilled fighter already, of course, but Vincent did not feel comfortable leaving him with only a paltry force of Turks just yet. That was why only Reno was with him today; Tseng, Rude, Cissnei, and the others were shadowing Rufus on the long trip across the sea. Speaking of the redhead...Vincent turned slightly, and motioned for Reno, who was sitting on a pier post brooding, to come over.

"What?" His disgruntled tone was almost enough to make Vincent frown, but he kept his face slack.

"Go take a break."

"Why? I'm fine out here, yo."

"You're bored, bitchy, and angsting more than I do. Go get a bottle of water and a snack." Reno's eyes narrowed, and he growled a little. He had a low opinion of authority, the older Turk knew that; it still didn't give him the right to disrespect him.

"Come on, boss, I'm not that bad."

"Yes, you are, and frankly, I'm getting tired of it. You never pulled this shit with Veld, and I have no idea why you're doing it with me. I know that I'm not him; I wouldn't try to take his place even if I could in this organization. But I do feel that I've earned a little respect, especially when Heidigger got drunk the night Veld left."

"...I'm sorry that you had to deal with him. I really am. But...you been gone for twenty years, an' things ain't the same anymore...We ain't the same. The surveillance you're runnin', the hackin' you're havin' Kunsel do...It's dirty work." Reno replied, his green eyes flaring a little. "An' I don't like it at all." Vincent sighed, pulling his hair over one shoulder, braiding it absentmindedly.

"Neither do I, Reno. You forget; when I was a Turk, we didn't do the dirty work; that was SOLDIER's predecessors. We were security for Shin-ra executives, employees, and the Tower itself. The most surveillance we ran was security footage. We didn't wiretap, didn't spy...didn't photograph. We mostly caught thieves, punks, and the occasional conspiracy theorist. It...was a job to be proud of...Had I been in the Turks when the decision was made to firebomb Kalm, it wouldn't have happened, even if I had had to sabotage everything."

"...So...why're you doin' it?"

"Because Veld asked me too...and because I don't trust Hojo as far as I can blow him away. Be wary of him, Reno; he's not only killed a Turk before, he's also done experiments on him. He's a monster in a lab coat, and that ego will only grow larger if he's given the leeway."

"So, you learned all of this through watching him and his flunkies?"

"...No. I knew it long ago. Do you know what happened back in Shinra Manor, right before Sephiroth's birth?"

"No, I don't. Does it have to do with our surveillance?"

"...It has everything to do with it. There was a young Turk, in love with one of the scientists. Sephiroth's mother, to be exact. He protested when she and another scientist elected to put the unborn child up for experimentation, and got himself shot in the stomach for it. As he was dying, the other scientist, Hojo, proceeded to use what he could of the Turk's body to check his demented theories. After a while, the Turk was transfered to his former lover's laboratory, and she did the same, twisting and scarring his body even more. He was pronounced dead on April 7th of the next year, and laid to rest in the crypt beneath the manor, where he lay in peace for the next two and a half decades...until Hojo returned." The look of horror dawning on Reno's face made Vincent turn away, to look back out over the waves, a deep sadness filling his heart.

"I learned, from the day that I set foot in the manor, that I was expendable as an asset of Shin-ra; I learned from Hojo that I was less than that, barely a tool. When he left me there...I couldn't leave. Physical chains could not hold me...but emotional ones were impossible to shake loose. And I learned something else, Reno..." He turned back, and held those green eyes in a long, soulful stare. "I learned that you can't rely on anyone but yourself in the end. None of my friends, not even Veld, came looking for me; I checked the records when I came back into the fold. I knew that being a Turk meant that you might end up dead; I never realized that it also meant that you don't look for the ones who go missing. As for the surveillance...that's to prevent any of that from ever happening again. Hojo's on the warpath in regards to his experiments; and he will stop at nothing. That answer your questions and concerns?"

"...Y-yeah...I'm sorry, boss..."

"...Don't be, Reno. You never knew; how can I hold that against you? However...No more disrespect. It grates on my nerves, and makes my eye twitch in a way that generally portends disaster."

"Oh..."

"Relax. Go get your drink, okay?"

"...Okay...You...you want somethin' too?"

"Just a water, please."

"'Kay..." As he disappeared into the crowds of scantily-clad tourists, Vincent smiled a little, and turned to the shadow hovering just out of range, his white coat slung over his shoulder.

"You needn't wait in the wings, Mr. Shinra."

"...You looked like you were busy."

"And that's stopped you before?"

"No, but for some reason, it seemed prudent to listen rather than interrupt."

"Indeed...did you learn everything about me, then?"

"...I still have a few questions, but they can wait for now. How is he?"

"Reno? I'm sure he's still taking it rather hard, but he'll be alright. Otherwise, there's nothing to be concerned with...save that you're playing a very dangerous game, my young master."

"I know the dangers, Vincent...Perhaps not as well as yourself, but I do know them. And I know, too well, that my father's schemes aren't going to work, no matter how much money he throws at them."

"And you want to gather the evidence to convict him?"

"Hardly. If I could get away with it, I'd have had you kill him the moment Veld came to me with you. Unfortunately, there's only one sniper in the known world capable of that sort of shot, and too many people know that he's in my employ."

"Pity. I wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over him."

"Very much a pity...but I have another task at hand right now."

"The man in Rocket Town?"

"Exactly. Either way the wind blows, we need a healthy transport force, and airships are few and far between as it is. I'll not have Palmer destroy another possible contact."

"Can I kill him?"

"Gods, I wish. In any case, our resident ginger is returning...I suppose I'd best make it back to the ship and arrive with all of the pomp and circumstance due my position."

"Very well. Rude, Tseng, take care of him."

"Of course, sir." Rufus faded into the mass of white sailors, Rude and Tseng a pair of dark shadows behind him, as Reno reappeared, panting slightly, his face flushed with a silly grin. He'd apparently found a few slices of melon, and handing one to Vincent, promptly devoured his.

"Hungry, much?"

"It was crazy out there, yo! But this really hot chick was sellin' melons, an' one of 'em fell an' split, an' I got free shares 'cause I helped her out!" Vincent smiled, his eyes warming. It was sweet to see the kid acting like a kid, his green eyes laughing, lips a perpetual smile, his duties and secrets forgotten for a moment.

"Very good, Reno. Well, Rufus' ship is here; shall we head out?"

"Yessir!"

_November 6th  
><em>_Vice President's Office  
><em>_Shinra Tower_

Rufus stared down at the documents in his hand, blue eyes wide and glassy. Outside his windows, the autumn winds howled mournfully, echoing in the almost empty room. There...there was no way...but the proof was impossible to deny. DNA didn't lie, even when people did...He slowly turned, his eyes focusing on the lanky figure stretched out in an armchair across from him. Vincent's hell-red eyes were dark, their usual eldritch glow dimmed by a substantial amount of wine that he'd put away earlier, while he was busy reordering the private archives for Reeve. He held a glassful in his left hand, devoid of the garish claw so many were used to seeing. The black glove that covered it was buckled down, and Rufus cast his eyes away from it. Vincent had never once minced words with him, and that hadn't changed tonight, when just an hour ago, he'd rushed into Rufus' office, holding a thick bundle of folders. He'd slammed them on the desk, and leaned over it, a faint growl sounding through his deep voice.

"You had better read these, and read these well. Your very existence hinges on your decision of what to do with them." With that, he'd gone back down and returned with a bottle of red wine and a glass, perched carefully on a large stack of boxes. During the time it took Rufus to get through the papers, Vincent had cleared and organized the boxes, two of which lay discarded beside him. Now he lounged, eyes on his boss, waiting for a word.

"Where...where did you find these?"

"In a box half-mildewed on the bottom, clearly meant to be tossed in the trash."

"Was there anything else?"

"You've got everything that even remotely survived. And I don't know about you, but it implicates both of your parents in a great deal of trouble..." Vincent took a long gulp of wine and glanced up at the ceiling. "Kunsel, turn all surveillance off on the floor, and the ones above and below."

"_Yes sir. I'll be on stand-by." _Vincent leaned forward, filling his glass again, then sighed deeply, draining it in one swallow as Rufus let the papers fall, his hands rubbing his face.

"I...never knew any of this."

"I know. That's why I'm bringing it to your attention now. Lazard Deusericus, Reno Sinclair, and Fiona 'Cissnei' Ciseran are your illegitimate siblings. Lazard was your father's child, Reno and Cissnei your mother's. Reno and Cissnei could claim your position should they learn of it, as well as your inheritance." It was harsh to say it all in one go, but Rufus suspected that Vincent didn't care. He felt his stomach churn in disgust and fear, but it wasn't directed at Reno and Cissnei. It was the knowledge that his family name was once again associated with misery and suffering...and even at his young age, he was beginning to grow sick of it. Was there nothing that the Shinra Corporation hadn't done to harm others?

"I..."

"Do you know why they were given away?"

"It...says here that Father never knew about Lazard. But...Mother..."

"She had not been able to get pregnant via your father, so she had two separate pregnancies with her aide, and covered them up as miscarriages. When he found out, he had her artificially inseminated, producing you. Reno ended up living with a hag who forced him into prostitution, Cissnei with adoptive parents who abused and beat her daily. Lazard was forced through a variety of private schools and institutions, then he was nearly implicated in Genesis' desertion and the destruction that caused in Banora when he died. All three were older than you, and the younger two have a compelling reason to see your fall. But you've been good to the Turks, and they know that. Reno would die for you; so would Cissnei. Telling them this could destroy your relationship with them both...and could end your life."

"But...if it's clear that it was Father and Mother...not me..."

"That might not change a thing. You grew up with everything that they never had; the best teachers, safety, all your heart's desires...Reno had the gutter, Cissnei a basement, Lazard a early death. And placing just the blame on them won't work; at heart, they may always believe you knew, and never told them." Vincent's eyes caught his, and Rufus looked away first; he couldn't bear to meet those sorrowed eyes.

"What should I do?"

"...That, my boy, is the hardest part...but you can start by remembering Lazard. Where he died, place a marker; take those two with you. Explain everything, take the files; I'll stand by as a witness."

"...How do you do this, Vincent?"

"Do what?"

"Look at all the horrible things this company does on a daily basis and...distance yourself from it. How?"

"...A degree of mental and emotional numbing tends to help, I will admit. The truth is, youngster, that I just don't care enough to get angry anymore. That you do is admirable; that you're doing something about it, nigh heroic. But then, this is your generation to direct, not mine. I'm glad that you're doing something; I just hope, for your sake and theirs, that you'll be able to carry this burden with more grace than either of your parents."

"Alright. I'll...I'll have a conference here. Banora will still be off-limits, but I'm sure I can get Tseng to get us close enough to honor him...my...brother. Wow...it's strange. I've...always wanted siblings...And now I'm mourning one, and hoping that I won't end up being killed by two more."

"Yes, sadly, family is often the most volatile of places to be. Well, I'm going back to the archives; Hojo made an absolute mess of the place. Good night, Rufus."

"_Tower Surveillance back online_." With Kunsel's last words, Vincent picked up the remaining boxes, tossed the now emptied bottle in a wastebasket, and slipped out of the office, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. Rufus sat back against his chair, running one hand through his hair, eyes closing. _Gods...what do I do...?_


End file.
